


The Face of Pleasure

by knefmeister



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Masturbation, photographer/model au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-09-01 00:27:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20249128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knefmeister/pseuds/knefmeister
Summary: An AU in which Angela Ziegler is a photographer doing nude photo shoots for an exhibition. Hana Song is a model who appears to be picky with the work she chooses and already rejected working with Angela once, but she underestimated how persistent and persuasive the swiss woman can be.I suck at summaries.





	The Face of Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot.  
Written for mere entertainment.  
Keep in mind that english is not my first language and even though I proof-read my stuff, mistakes can still happen.  
This is my first story here on AO3 and I plan to write even more because I'm thirsty for Hanamercy.  
Enjoy!

The café was deserted and besides Angela, there were no other customers left to be served. It was getting late and the barista was already sweeping through the aisles, cleaning tables and shooting shy glances out of the window front from time to time in hope to spot late customers. However, Angela appeared to be the only one for the rest of the night.  
  
  
“Are you closing soon?” Angela asked the barista, raising her face from the pile of photos which lied in front of her, waiting to be arranged. The barista shook his head. “No, this is a round a clock café.” Angela gave him a quick nod and focused her attention back to the photographs.  
  
  
Outside various groups of businessmen were passing by on their daily afterhours hunt through a world of customized satisfaction and occasionally, bits and pieces of their weary, heavy-tongued conversations would seep in, muffled by the clear window front. Angela was immersed in inspecting her work and didn’t bother to look up anymore although she knew her photographs pictured the very momentum of pleasure these men were searching for, driven by instinct and reduced to the very nature of human desire.  
  
  
Sitting in a café like this one late at night had once given her the inspiration for her following work which soon turned out to be a success. Nude photography portraying the game of satisfaction was what led her to become a well-known phantom among the photographer scene. Of course, not everyone knew her name. But those who did desired her work just as much as they desired to extinguish their need with pure flesh.  
  
  
“These are some very controversial photographs you’ve got there, Madam.” The barista remarked and pointed at her photographs. “Who are these ladies?”  
  
  
“Models.”  
  
  
“Are they doing it for money?”  
  
  
“For fun.”  
  
  
The barista attempted to voice another question but Angela harshly put him off and he disappeared behind the counter like a defeated carnivore, out of her vision, out of her mind.  
  
  
On the table in front of her she had spread out several black and white printouts, all taken by the same rangefinder camera, all portraying different women, poses and perspectives differing.  
  
  
One printout, marked with ‘amelie01’, showed the curves of a slender back still veiled in a hint of a light summer dress, falling down from her bare shoulders into subtle folds. Angela quickly flipped through the stack of unarranged printouts for one marked with ‘amelie02’. They were all part of a study Angela wanted to exhibit soon.  
  
  
The second photograph showed the woman lying on a mattress, her body surrounded by pillows, her face darkened by shadows. Her hand rested on her lower abdomen, suggesting the very action the beholder might anticipate. The beholder’s eyes would be seized by her tender breasts, follow the line of her slender waist, the black of the navel and finally come to a halt at her delicate hand. Perhaps they would as well feel the same kind of tickling excitement the woman, Amélie, had been feeling in the moment Angela took the picture.  
  
  
The doorbell rang and ripped Angela out of her professional routine. At the other end of the aisle, another customer entered the café and stepped towards the counter to order a Frappuccino, large, with an extra caramel-shot. The order sounded familiar to Angela and as she looked up from her work once more to scan the customer from afar, she instantly recognized the striking shape of her neck, which momentarily flashed up under her brown, wavy hair and the midnight blue dress she was wearing.  
  
  
Angela knew her. She was the model who had rejected a corporation with her once. Her name was Hana Song if she remembered correctly. It’s rare to have a model refusing to work with a well-established photographer like her. Angela was thus upset for she had found some rare quality in her aura other models she had worked with so far were truly lacking of; a mere scene of innocence. The Lolita-image, Angela was certain, could be re-invented if only she had the chance to work with her.  
  
  
The young woman was still waiting for her order when Angela came up to her. Once again, she tried to convince her, persuade her, searching for eye contact but Hana kept her brilliant gaze fixed on the counter. She was signalizing a clear ‘no’ but Angela insisted. Still, Hana wouldn’t sell her body as an object of exhibition; as another piece of her collection.  
  
  
“You’re already selling your smile!” Angela observed her subtle movements, the way she reached out for the paper coffee cup and pressed the lid shut. A faint scent of caramel lingered in the air. “At least have a look at my work!”  
  
  
For a second Hana seemed to contemplate and then finally agreed to Angela’s relief. If she couldn’t have her as a model, she could at least have her as a spectator. Maybe she would change her mind upon seeing her printouts for her upcoming exhibition.  
  
  
“I’ve worked with two models. Their names were Amélie Guillard and Lena Oxton. Very admirable young women, very talented.” Hana hovered over each printout, taking in the sight of the poses, the curves of their delicate bodies, slender backs arched in pleasure, heads tilted to side, shadows casted across their faces, their expressions forever hidden from the public eye.  
  
  
“I would portray you as certain dark things are to be portrayed, secretly, between shadows and the soul.” The photograph marked with ‘amelie02’ slid across the table. “Like this.”  
  
  
~  
  
  
The rangefinder camera was positioned on a tripod in midst of the gloom of her studio. It was past midnight and little light would be needed to conduct the shoot. No sounds seeped in from outside and the world of customized pleasure was far out of reach. Hana prepared herself in the back of her studio, the clothes racks rattled while being used. No make-up, no clothes, just her body entwined in the soft, yet expressive motions of pleasure. Angela kept it simple; almost minimalistic with her monochrome snapshots and tonight she would complete her collection with a touch of the extraordinary.  
  
  
Hana entered the room. In the dark her expression was hardly perceivable but she followed Angela’s instructions without hesitating. _Lie down, place your hand like this, the other one like this, shield your chest with your arm, you don’t necessarily need to climax, just pretend to if you like._  
  
  
After adjusting the moderate light setting, Angela let her camera snap a few shots, altered her instructions and took another sequence of shots. Hana changed positions every time the lens snapped shut, subtly shifting within the pillows, never revealing her face.  
  
  
Her miraculous beauty seemed to sparkle in the faint light of the studio’s interior and Angela was certain she captured every facet of her aura that could be captured. Hana was moving slowly, giving Angela time to adjust the camera. And still, the farther Hana took herself to the verge of bliss, the more heated up Angela became. The warmth crept up her body almost as if she were sharing the mattress with Hana.  
  
  
But she refrained from stepping closer; she had to stand behind the camera, give instructions and lead the process and not let the heat melt away the professional distance. She is a photographer, she told herself, not a sponsor.  
  
  
Out of the shadow Angela noticed how Hana moved her hand down her abdomen until the dark seized it again. Everything visible was the discreet wriggling of her wrist, the slight shudder of her body, the breaths that seemed to come harder, filling her lungs wholly with air. Her chest rose and sunk in an increasing rhythm. Still Angela clicked the button continuously in fear she might miss the most precious moments.  
  
  
All of a sudden, she found it incredibly hard to keep focused. Her eyes were more and more drawn to the naked woman in front of her. She felt her own heartbeat rising, her body tingling in excitement. The lens snapped shut again.  
  
  
It was too late to get rid of her own clothes, so Angela remained behind the camera and captured Hana’s motions while feeling her own body tensing up within the sensual air.  
  
  
Hana’s breaths turned into frequent gasps until moans seemed to be the only way left to in- and exhale air. Her shudders increased and Hana’s hand searched frantically for a hold onto the mattress and her sleek skin.  
  
  
A splash of moonlight fell upon Hana’s naked skin and exposed her face to the lens of the camera. Her hand slid down for another movement and her whole body jerked in pleasure, creating the perfect momentum for Angela to capture.  
  
  
She pressed the button and the screen of her lighting kit flashed up for the last time. All of a sudden, she felt her body overwhelmed by a wave of sensation that instantly stole her breath. Hana’s motions had come to a halt but Angela felt a throbbing sensation down her body.  
  
  
She turned away from the enticing sight unfolding in front of her, still holding onto her camera as she felt the sensation of her own climax gliding over her. With any inhale she would reveal her own state of mind so she kept quiet, but Hana had already gotten to her feet again.  
  
  
In the faint light, which seemed to dance effortlessly around her elegant curves, she tilted her head against the moonlight as if to examine what was going on with her photographer. She quickly understood.  
  
  
Angela was still battling to compose herself again as Hana slipped in front of her, reached out and caressed her glowing cheeks fondly.  
  
  
“You’re a stone-cold lesbian. You may try to hide it…” She said and decreased the distance between them. “…but I know it’s true.” They shared a brief, caramel-flavored kiss. Angela leaned in, almost begging for more but Hana swiftly pulled away and went back to the dressing room.  
  
  
~  
  
  
They parted ways without exchanging an unnecessary bundle of words. It was only later after Angela had developed the photographs of that night in the darkroom, that she realized she had indeed captured the exact expression of lust plastered on a beautiful face. The moonlight brought a marvelous paleness to her face that made her look doll-faced, even younger, the precise edge of innocence Angela had been hunting for.  
  
  
Underneath the photographs in her exhibition Angela had added the names of each models but Hana’s photograph soon became popular as the “Face of Pleasure”.  
  



End file.
